The Last Year And Me. . .

I hit a wall this week. I find the dark nights and the cold wet conditions wearying, and I suspect I'm prone to a little seasonal adjustment disorder. From the outside I'm just Rob being Rob. Not to be taken too seriously, blathering on about this and that. But inside I've felt different. Off. This has everything to do with the last year. Since Covid-19 came to town we've all found ourselves in a version of reality nobody could have predicted. Unable to do many of the things we previously took for granted. Waving at relatives through windows. Unable to give those who need a hug a big squeezy one. It's crushing. But I'm resilient and I usually just play the hand I'm dealt and forge ahead. I mean what other option is there? Yet I think it has taken a toll as the months have dragged on. We've had the full pandemic experience now and we're up to speed, right? Only that isn't how these things work. So many have done as I have and just taken each day as it comes. A bit of humour here, a grumble there. Just the normal stuff. But the hell with it, this is not normal. I no longer know what normal is. That particular reference point has receeded. These days I often feel fuzzy and my thoughts unclear. Having to self isolate has not helped this because I'm a guy that has to be doing, contributing. It's a kind of self medication for me. A work laptop was delivered on the final day of my shift pattern. I won't comment in detail what I thought about that because I've already made my views on this clear privately and it isn't appropriate I do so here. Suffice to say that it actually left me feeling somehow bleaker. Not being able to leave the house is crap, although I am grateful that I appear not to have been infected. It's just that we've all got this thing hovering over us right now. And we're not going to really surface until later in year during which time who knows what the cost will be? 80,000 dead, businesses destroyed. And as for the cost to people's mental health I wouldn't even want to estimate that. I fear we'll be paying back that debt for years. When things go tits up we can normally go to friends and family, which is why the pandemic has been such a cruel mistress. It takes what you love but doesn't actually remove it. Instead it just say's that everything is still there only you cannot touch it. Now I'm generally in favour of delayed gratification but fuck this. Talk about dangling a carrot! Anyway's, there's no real wisdom in this post. It's just me bleating really. Bitching about the current state of the universe. At heart I think I've probably got a softer center than I care to admit. Bit of an armadillo; hard on the outside and soft on the in. I don't like seeing people hurting and lonely and lost. I don't want to live in a world where this has become the norm rather than the exception. On a lighter note, today is the first that I have been able to hug the offspring and snog Joy for several days. I've had to make do with the dog, which isn't the ideal solution as much I adore him. Hugs matter, don't they? The proximity to another person. To feel their warmth, their humanity. If we ever took this for granted then perhaps the last year may have reminded us that we should not. Even I, who has hermit inclinations, appreciates it when somebody comes close. It must be so much harder for single people whom live alone or the recently bereaved or those still having to shield. Nothing I can say will make it easier for you. But know that if I could give you a hug I would. I hope with all my heart that within a few months we're all in a lighter place. Perhaps coinciding with the longer and warmer days. I want to hear the bustle of humanity, the clink of glasses in a pub garden, the sounds of groups of kids playing in the park. The normal things. The life enhancing things. The world we've all had to leave behind.